Free Bloodstone by Barbra Annino

rolled over, still in dreamland, and the thing popped its head out from the bag. I couldn’t make out what it was, but it chirped little bird noises and its eyes were green marbles.
    There was something in its hand with glowing slash marks all over it. Thor tensed and released a long, threatening growl. The thing held whatever it was in the air—a bill from Ivy’s cash wad maybe—squawking and pacing back and forth along the dresser.
    From the bed, Ivy mumbled, “Petey,” and the thing on the dresser dropped what was in his hands, flew across the room, hovered above her for a split second then floated to a wall shelf.
    Thor flashed his canines and targeted the shelf. In one impressive leap, he took it and several of Chance’s old baseball trophies down to the carpeted floor in a thunderous wave.
    Ivy bolted awake and screamed. I ran for the light and flipped the switch.
    There was nothing but a puff of smoke where the flying creature once was.
    I stood there in silence, stunned. Even Thor was quiet but it was just we three in the room. Then Ivy said, “Was Petey here?” just as Chance came rushing down the stairs.
    “I heard screams. What—” Chance halted at the edge of the stairs as he surveyed the damage.
    I rushed towards him. “There was a mouse and Thor got a little overzealous chasing it. I’m sorry.” I shot Ivy a glance and she nodded.
    “Sorry,” she said.
    Chance walked over to where the shelf had been attached to the wall, tracing the hole with his hand. He put his fingers through his hair and sighed. “It’s not too bad. I can patch it.” Then he turned toward us. “You’re both okay though?”
    “Fine,” I said and he shook his head and shuffled towards the stairwell.
    After I heard the door shut at the top of the stairs, I turned back to Ivy. “Who is Petey?”
    She pulled her knees to her chest and said, “He was my first stuffed animal—a squirrel—when I was a baby. I slept with him all the time. We lost him once in a move. Sometimes I think about him and I can see him.”
    I stared at her for a second, then told Thor to go to sleep. He curled up by the foot of the bed and I stepped into the bathroom to wash my hands and gather my thoughts.
    This was more than I could handle, I knew that now. I needed Birdie’s help—like yesterday. First thing in the morning we would head over there, possibly stay at the inn if there was room. We had to tell her everything. Birdie had every right to know that her daughter might be in danger. And that she may have another grandchild.
    The sink was filling up with water but I hadn’t plugged the drain. I twisted the faucet and went fishing for what was causing the blockage. The stopper put up a fight but it finally relented and popped out with a clang, clang, clang.
    Only it wasn’t the stopper that made the noise. It was a penny. The year I was born.
    I padded back to the bedroom. Ivy was already on her side of the bed and I slid in beside her. I set the alarm for six a.m., enough time to talk to Birdie before she served her guests—and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
    The last thought that ran through my mind before I drifted off was if that thing was what I think it was, I am in way over my head with this kid.

 
     
    IVY GERAGHTY’S PERSONAL BOOK OF SHADOWS
    by Ivy Geraghty
    Entry #8
    Today, I shall meet the mother of my mother, Brighid Geraghty, descendant of the Great Goddess Brighid whose fire still burns on the Green Isle in the county of Kildare. (Although I think it’s completely asinine to roll out of bed at the crack of dawn). At the home of my mother and her ancestors, we shall combine the talents of two generations of Geraghty women and continue our quest to save one of our own.
    -Ivy Geraghty, Junior Apprentice Warrior Goddess (in training)

 
     
     
    TWENTY-NINE
     
    “Ivy, hurry up in there. We have to get to the house before breakfast,” I said through the bathroom door. Saturday breakfasts were a little more hectic than